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<h2 id="directory">目录</h2>
<a href="#one">chapter 1 THE BOY WHO LIVED </a>  <br />
<a href="#two">chapter 2  THE WORST BIRTHDAY </a>  <br />
<a href="#three">chapter 3 OWL POST</a>    <br />
<a href="#four">chapter 4 Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows</a> <br />




<h4 id="one">chapter 1 THE BOY WHO LIVED</h4>

<p>Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, 
were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, 
thank you very much. They were the last people 
you'd expect to be involved in anything strange 
or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. 
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings,
which made drills.</p> 

<p>He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, 
although he did have a very large mustache. 
Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of 
neck, which came in very useful as she spent so 
much of her time craning over garden fences, spying 
on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son 
called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer 
boy anywhere.</p>

<p>The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they 
also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that 
somebody would discover it. They didn't think they 
could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. 
Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't.</p>


<h4 id="two">chapter 2  THE WORST BIRTHDAY</h4>

<p>Not for the first time, an argument had broken out 
over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. 
Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of 
the morning by a loud, hooting noise from his nephew 
Harry's room.</p> 
<p>“Third time this week!” he roared across the table. “If 
you can't control that owl, it'll have to go!” 
Harry tried, yet again, to explain.</p> 

<h4 id="three">chapter 3 OWL POST</h4>

<p>Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. 
For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more 
than any other time of year. For another, he really 
wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in 
secret, in the dead of night. And he also happened to 
be a wizard. </p>
<p>It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his 
stomach in bed, the blankets drawn right over his 
head like a tent, a flashlight in one hand and a large 
leather-bound book  (A History of Magicby Bathilda 
Bagshot) propped open against the pillow. Harry 
moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, 
frowning as he looked for something that would help 
him write his essay, “Witch Burning in the Fourteenth 
Century Was Completely Pointless — discuss.” 
The quill paused at the top of a likely-looking 
paragraph. Harry pushed his round glasses up the 
bridge of his nose, moved his flashlight closer to the 
 book, and read:     
</p>


<h4 id="four">chapter 4 Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows</h4>

<p>Voldemort raised his hand to silence her, and she did 
not speak another word, but eyed him in worshipful 
fascination.</p>

<p>“I thought he would come,” said Voldemort in his 
high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. “I 
expected him to come.”</p>

<a href="#directory">回到目录</a>

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